“On a steady old rock, like Mr Caldwell or our Davie,” said Jem. “Yes, I know; still I like Phil.”
“So we all like him,” said Violet. “But, as mamma says, we do not rely on him. He likes us and our ways, and our admiration of him, and he likes to come here and talk with mamma, and get good advice, and all that. But he likes to go to other places, and to talk with other people, who are as different from mamma as darkness is from daylight. He is so careless and good-tempered that anything pleases him for the moment. He has no stability. One cannot help liking him, but one cannot respect him.”
Everybody looked surprised. Jem whistled.
“Why don’t you tell him so? It might do him good.”
“It wouldn’t change his nature,” said Violet, loftily. And then she bade them all good-night, and she and Jem went away, and Miss Bethia improved the occasion.
“I expect that his nature has got to be changed before he amounts to much that is good. I hope, David, you will not let this frivolous young man lead you away from the right path.”
Mrs Inglis had gone out of the room, and David prepared himself for what he knew would come sooner or later, Miss Bethia’s never-failing good advice.
“You are none too wise to be drawn away by a pleasant-spoken, careless youth like that. His company might easily become a snare to you, and to Jem too.”
“Oh! he has very little to say to me, Miss Bethia. He is older than Jem or I. He likes to talk to mamma, and you mustn’t think ill of him from what was said to-night.”
“I suppose the trouble is in his bringing up,” said Miss Bethia. “From all I hear, I should fear that his father hasn’t a realising sense of the importance of religion for himself or his family, and what can be expected of his son?”